After the rains, I arrive on the scene with my cap, not in hand, but sitting squarely on my head. I could decorate my cap, but I think I prefer it quite plain. I have kin that love to decorate them with spots. Others with a more eccentric style, scooping out bits from the material. Even the fancier of us are never seen without a lace veil pinned delicately, just so. Do you know us yet?

Fruit sits ripe, ready to eat, then some poor schlub dumps sugar all over it; They say it’s better, they’ve sweetened the thing, I want to smack them, they’ve ruined my fruit.

Guarded by thousands like I was gold, And I can never go old, What am I?

Tell me now, without a frown. What grows up while growing down?

Even though we sing that its days are over, Every one has its day. Maybe that’s why they’re so beloved A bestie always up for a nap, drive, or play.